


Whispers would deafen me now

by kalika_999



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [150]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, Caretaking, Guilt, HYDRA Husbands, Human/Vampire Relationship, Loss of Control, M/M, Near Death, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29789295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: He shouldn't let it go this far.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [150]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/547894
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Whispers would deafen me now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winter_angst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Forevermore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118792) by [winter_angst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst). 



> This isn't exactly Twilight inspired, it's mainly vampire inspired and since I've been werewolf thotting lately, this shift is definitely from you lol 💙

Jack stumbled heavily, his arm almost slipping off of Brock’s shoulder. Brock huffed an exhausted breath and readjusted his grip around his waist, his palm flat against the hard muscle.

“Almost there, Jackie- ” Brock’s voice was strained, footsteps occasionally unbalanced beneath the almost exclusive dead weight as he manoeuvred them to the bed. “Just a couple more steps..”

He unceremoniously dropped him on the mattress and Jack fell with a heavily sounded thud. Crawling onto the bed beside him, Brock still found him unresponsive, weighed down by a terrible exhaustion. He sighed as he quickly pulled off Jack’s shoes, nudging them off the bed before unbuttoning the top two buttons at his collar. 

“Jack.” Concern threaded the letters together as he mimicked the same actions on himself, laid down, his back flat against the covers, hand pulling at Jack’s torso to drape him on top. Brock didn’t have time to remove his shirt, compelled by a frightening urgency.

Jack moved slowly, still bumbling and incoherent. Brock did his best to coax the man’s legs on either side of his thighs while he secured one hand around Jack's belt to steady him, the other gently running up his neck and carefully easing his head down to the hollow of his own throat.

“ _C’mon._ ” He whispered urgently into his lover’s ear. He lifted his head slightly off the pillow and pressed warm flesh against Jack's lips. “Ya need to feed before ya starve.” Tried as he might, he couldn’t hide the desperation in his words. There was a beat of silence, and Brock didn’t know why he was still trying to talk logic to the man so far gone above him.

He pushed down a little harder, and finally, _finally_ , he could feel Jack’s lips parting. It took a second, acutely aware the minute sound of fangs sliding from gums before he felt them pierce his throat.

Brock jerked, unable to stop his body from it, back arching as Jack finally began to feed. A wave of intense relief washed over him as he fisted his hands into the bedsheets, fangs burrowing even deeper into his flesh with a renewed intensity. Cold lips trembled on the curve of his neck, suddenly slick with hot blood. Brock forced himself to relax as he usually would, bringing his hands up and resting his palms gently into the arch on Jack's back. He was so tense beneath his gentle touch, and he pressed his fingers carefully into the ridges of a hard spine to ease the knots, delicate and tender.

Brock’s breathing was becoming more controlled as his body settled into the familiar routine. Jack barely moved his lips, so driven by a terrible and profound hunger, that he was frozen to lie still and take in as much as he liked. Brock couldn’t help the twitching of his leg beneath the broad figure, his eyelids fluttering shut. 

_ Breathe, just breathe. You’re fine.  _

The pain in his neck began to dull, a quiet numbness tingling in his shoulder. A few minutes must have passed when the exhaustion began to weigh into the marrow of his bones.

“Alright..” Brock muttered, moving his hands to Jack's shoulders. His blood began to dampen the pillow and he shifted his gaze. They weren’t usually so messy when they did this. “Are- are ya okay fer now, Jackie?”

Brock ignored the stickiness clinging against his skin as Jack lifted his head, long fangs slowly sliding from between the raw layers of flesh. His breath hitched as he felt the holes in his neck begin to weep. Brock’s body felt terribly heavy, and he let himself sink into the bed. As much as he wanted to keep going, his command over his own consciousness was beginning to fray.

“Jack?” It was barely above a whisper, and Brock startled when hot blood dripped onto his cheek. The vampire did not respond, and Brock flinched when strong, cold fingers grasped his jaw and ruthlessly pushed it to the side. The muscles in his neck stretched painfully and he could feel the blood welling quickly from the punctures, flowing down along his skin. “Jack.” He muttered, an innate wariness settling in when he would not stop.

_ Calm down, it’s fine.  _

He pressed his palms against those broad shoulders, trying with futility to push Jack away. Dark spots began to haunt the edges of his vision, his breath quickening. The sheets below him began to grow soggy, sticking to his soiled shirt and Brock applied more force. _This ain’t happening-_ “ _Jack._ ”

There was a moment of tension. And then-

Strong fingers clamped around his wrists, and before he could register the movement they were pinned by his head. Jack's eyes shone manically in the darkness, shrouded with the desire of a man too long starved. Brock could hear his own heart beating so violently it threatened to fracture his ribcage. He couldn’t even take a breath before Jack bore down on him violently.

The pain was suffocating. Jack’s fangs brutally tore into the hollow of his neck, his flesh giving in so easily as blood flooded to the surface.

Air failed to come to him, the agony blindingly intense as Jack hollowed his cheeks and ravaged the blood from his veins. Brock was a trembling mess beneath him, legs kicking spastically into the mattress, back arching so sharply he might have snapped in two. Jack drank Brock’s voice away, hot blood gurgling at the back of his supposed prey’s throat, spilling frantically over the side of his mouth.

His cries fractured like static and Jack failed to notice. Instead he swallowed the blood greedily, his tongue busy lapping and digging deep in a frantic need to scavenge every drop available. It prodded the soft walls of flesh, muffled the vibrations of Brock’s vocal chords and removed the wetness with a squelching suck. Brock’s movements became stilted and slow, the beat of his heart stuttering against Jack’s chest.

Blood dried all stiff and uncomfortable against Jack’s neck, at his chin, his cheeks. His hair was damp, nostrils stained with the intense smell of copper. He lifted his lead to inhale, fangs tearing out through the fragile skin with one smooth motion, though not without being followed by a sound akin to the tear of wet paper. 

He breathed around a mouthful of blood, shuddering hard above Brock. His fingers began to ache from where they clasped fragile wrists, the thin bones shifting beneath his forceful grip.

_ Breathe. _

He forced his upper body to straighten, bending his knees around Brock’s narrow hips as he lifted himself off the still figure.

_ Still figure. _

Oh god.

_ Oh god. _

_ What have I done? _

The delicate tinge of copper shifted into an unbearable, sickly stench, watering his eyes. Time seemed to suspend itself as Jack began to come to terms with the cooling body trapped beneath him.

“No..” He released Brock’s arms as if scalded. He didn’t move, his head limp on the pillow, the right-side of his face smeared with red. The terrifying holes in his neck wept incessantly, and suddenly the air in the room felt so incredibly thick.

Jack’s heart would have ceased to beat if it didn’t already as he focused on Brock through his blurred vision, those hauntingly beautiful eyes staring  _ through _ him, mouth slack and pale. He’d never been so overwhelmed, debilitated. His fingers began to numb, the firm grip of terror wrapped around his throat, choking him, depriving him of any sort of consciousness, dizzying him until dark edges tinged around his vision.

“Brock.” Brock’s blood dripped from between his teeth and he coughed violently, eyes sliding to the marred, bruising flesh between a translucently pale chin and shoulder. “ _Brock._ ” A sob crawled out of his throat and his hands trembled, fingers gliding shakily to cup the bloody mess of his throat, to try and-

He was so cold.  _ Brock was so cold. _

But then, almost in a blink-

_ Breathing. _

Brock was breathing.

He was alive.

Jack had never moved so quickly in his life.

*****

Brock hadn’t woken up yet.

Jack loomed for _hours_.

He sat in the ragged armchair Brock hated, moved it next to the bed and stayed there. He hardly dared to take his eyes away from the bed, an intense fear lingering that if he did he would lose him for good.

The light was weak, streaming in through the curtained window. It was strong enough to illuminate the prone figure laid out on the bed, but left enough shadows to ease the vicious bruising illuminated against all the color he’d lost.

God, Brock was so still. If Jack were not so afraid to touch him, he would have kept one palm against his chest just to feel it rise and fall. He desperately yearned to press his fingers into the pulse of a bruised wrist, to remind himself he was still here with him but he just couldn’t.

An IV drip was attached to the back of Brock’s left hand, needle carefully breaking the skin, secured with tape. The bandages wrapped tenderly around his neck and shoulder seemed to fade, and Jack could hardly tell where they ended and the dangerously pale skin started. He had done his best to pull him together, inexperienced fingers working busily away, keeping the hot tears from falling as he struggled with futility to wish Brock’s blood back into his veins.

That delicious blood which had overwhelmed him into a frenzy had tasted so repulsive on his tongue when he felt that gentle heart stutter against his chest, when he felt those weak hands push at his shoulders, when he heard the desperation of  _ Jack. _

He hadn’t stopped.  _ He hadn’t stopped.  _ Brock begged, the scent of fear surrounding him, struggled against him, and he hadn’t stopped.

Brock had pulled his body along his, pushed his neck up to Jack's cold lips with all the trust in the world to tempt him.  _ Come on, Jack. Ya need to feed before ya starve.  _

The concern laced in his words was so devastating.  _ Why couldn’t I just stop? _

The red and purple encircling those wrists seemed to be more pronounced in the dim light. Jack had held Brock down and took more from him than he could have given. He had broken their agreement, the understanding they’d made together, a promise created. 

“ _Mh.._ ”

His eyes snapped from Brock’s arms to his face. Slowly, bruised eyelids began to flutter open, the fingers of his free hand curling against his stomach.

Tense, Jack’s hands strangled the arms of the armchair and they groaned back in protest. Five delicate letters pushed to tumble out of his mouth. “Brock..” 

Brock took a moment, owlishly blinking at Jack, whose body stayed frozen in place. He didn’t make an attempt to move yet, his eyes taking in inventory down his prone body, breath hitching as clearly his memories started flooding in probable devastating flashes. 

His lips parted and words struggled to form. “ _Jack._ ”

“Shh, don’t speak. You need rest.” Jack leaned in a little closer, unable to keep himself apart from Brock for too long now that he was awake. “I had to stitch you up a little, but I managed to do it and give you fluids.” His voice was heavy on his ears. “You’re going to be okay.”

There was a long pause as Brock absorbed everything, understanding settling in his coppery golden eyes and then soon after..he smiled.

He smiled.

Jack couldn’t move again, from the corner of his eye one trembling hand slowly shuffled across to the edge of the blanket. With some difficulty, Brock turned his palm up so it faced the ceiling.

“I- ” Those same tears came back, glass prickling at the back of Jack's throat. He was careful when he slotted his cold fingers in that delicate grip. “I’m sorry.” It felt like nothing, there was not enough weight to how truly sorry he was. “I’m _so sorry_ , Brock.”

But Brock continued to smile, fatigue ghosting his face, but his lips kept themselves upturned. “Ya didn’t mean to.”

His eyes fluttered shut, and Jack didn’t remove his hand, soaking in the warmth as he watched color slowly make its return from pale to tan flesh. Brock fell back into the throws of exhaustion, and Jack settled to stay in his armchair despite the light of the sun announcing its arrival.

He would be there when Brock woke again, it was the least he could do knowing it was a promise he’d never break.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from It’s All So Incredibly Loud by Glass Animals


End file.
